A rash of such street stabbings of young girls by British boys was the impetus for the Netflix series Adolescence that’s winning accolades for its skillful dramatization of teen bullying and violence.
Only, an odd twist happened in the production: Unlike the real-life victims in the British news, the fictional girl who was stabbed to death was no innocent victim. Rather, Katie is a cyber-bully who mercilessly taunts 13-year-old Jamie Miller, instigating a social-media mob by tagging him as an incel on Instagram.
It’s quite the paradox: A show that’s ostensibly shining light on toxic masculinity implicates a young girl – herself a victim of leaked nudes, aka 'revenge porn' - as sharing blame in her own lethal victimization. Talk about pulling one’s punches. Yes, girls occasionally bully boys. But, girls mostly bully other girls, while boys bully both girls and boys. It's probably no coincidence that all of the show's writers and directors are men; even well-intended men find it very hard to sit with the gendered nature of lethal violence.
That’s not to discount the positive impact of the four-part series in raising public awareness about the sinister influence of the manosphere on vulnerable young boys. But even there, Adolescence keeps it superficial. A viewer with no knowledge of online incel culture will not learn much about the manosphere or how it recruits alienated young men; Andrew Tate is mentioned only once, in a casual aside that’s not followed up on. (For an in-depth look at the history and status of the manosphere, listen to feminist podcaster Jamie Loftus’s four-part series on Sixteenth Minute.)
Both the acting and the cinematography are impressive. Each episode was shot as one non-stop take, without a single edit, in what the Guardian of UK aptly calls “a stunning technical accomplishment."
Stealing the show is first-time actor Owen Cooper. He is incredible as the 13-year-old killer Jamie Miller. It’s hard to believe that this is the 15-year-old’s debut performance. As the camera rolls, we see him shift on a dime from childish innocence to violent rage to sly manipulation. Also impressive is the lead detective, played by Ashley Walters, who in real life served 18 months in prison as a youth.
There are other noteworthy positives. Episode four gave a moving portrayal of parents trying to understand what caused their child’s crime, and coming to grips with their own shortcomings and responsibility. Episode one highlighted the pervasiveness of CCTV surveillance (although, typical of TV absurdity, the detectives are able to collect all of the footage, create a video timeline, identify the suspect and get warrants for his arrest and a search of his home all in under eight hours in the middle of the night).
A psychologist weeps
First off, it’s hard to know what type of evaluation is being performed. Granted, I’m not intimately familiar with juvenile justice in the UK. But this evaluation seems a hodge-podge. The psychologist Briony Ariston (Erin Doherty) frames it as “an independent presentence report,” but a presentencing report seems premature because the boy has not yet been tried or convicted. She asks a few competency- or fitness-for-trial questions at the very end, but earlier she also asks a lot of intrusive questions about sex that have no bearing on competency. She also muddles the incompatible roles of clinical and forensic examiner, a big no-no in our niche. The fact that she doesn’t take a single note during the hour-long interview would be inexcusable in a real-life forensic interview, as without notes there is no way for her work to be subject to proper scrutiny.
But those are all fairly minor quibbles. The most disturbing element of the evaluation is the psychologist's weakness and emotionality. Women who labor in the forensic trenches must be capable of keeping it together. If anything, we are more likely than our male colleagues to have our emotional allegiances challenged. Here, a 13-year-old boy is capable of taunting the psychologist until she is visibly shaken and hyperventilating, much to the boy's satisfaction. The stereotyped depiction of this woman professional is yet another sign that the show might have benefited from including the perspective of women writers and/or directors.
On balance? Adolescence succeeds in cinematography and acting, and it raises awareness about the manosphere. It would have earned more stars from me had it gone deeper and avoided bothsidesism.
⭐⭐⭐
Thanks to my forensic psychology community and to Zephyra for helpful thoughts and critiques.
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